Aflame
by inkjet
Summary: One-shot, starring Ellis. / / When the group refuses to stray from their path to New Orleans to look for the source of a cry for help, Ellis gallantly- or foolishly- leaves his friends in order to help a track star from California survive Whispering Oaks.


**AN**: This was originally for a contest I participated in on Mibba, requesting for me to use a lighter and an amusement park. So naturally, we think of Whispering Oaks. Or am I the only one? Haha.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, except for this weird main character who shares too much likeness to this girl I knew once in high school. Sorry 'bout it.

[ … ]

It was the eighth cigarette that afternoon.

I had only begun smoking within the last year; I was a runner in high school, which didn't leave much room for experimentation. Still, when did my habit get so bad? It seemed like just yesterday I struggled to hold one cigarette down without feeling nauseous. Quirking a brow at the cig, my memory reeled and I turned by gaze to the aqua lighter that set my cigarette aflame. These little details kept me from losing my mind in this mess of an existence.

In times like these, I usually create lists of pros and cons. Applying for college? Make a list. Job offer? Make a list. Saving for vacation? Make a list. Soon my whole life had been established around this foundation of decision-making; and that was fine. Impulsiveness ruined various lives at my tender age of twenty one. However, none of that mattered anymore. I took a long drag from the eighth cigarette, it hanging tired between my two fingers. My body ached, my mind exhausted. Still, as my chin rested against my sore palm, I found myself miming out a pros and cons list onto my dirtied pant leg, reminiscent of my life before.

_Pros of outbreak._ I drew a line with the butt of the lighter. _Cons of outbreak._

Staring incredulously at the muddy denim, my brown eyes blinked slowly. _Death, destruction, loss._ I added to the cons. Sigh. I couldn't believe I was _this_ desperate for some grasp of normalcy. Suddenly, the nerves in my body leaped as a groan emitted from the sleeping body next to me; it turned over, in an attempt to keep hold on whatever slumber it could fall under. I watched him carefully. Evidently, his name is Ellis- he used to run his own auto-repair shop or something. I wouldn't say we were strangers really. Not anymore, anyway. We were strangers when he told his three other friends that he heard a yell out in the distance. We were strangers when Ellis strayed from his group when they denied his request to investigate. We were strangers when he forced the two zombies on either side of me to their knees with two dumb luck shotgun shells. We were strangers, but he held his hand down to me as I shook, absolutely terrified.

"_I heard ya from way the hell over there, so I wanted to make sure yer alright. Glad to see ya aren't dead, miss!" _

The young man seemed completely unfazed, repositioning the blue baseball cap that covered his mess of chestnut curls. Without a second thought, Ellis lifted one of the guns he had on him and immediately handed it to me, the bold gesture masked entirely behind his goofy, gleaming grin. "_Now you be careful with that, okay? Them uzis got a lotta bite." _I stared at the gun, observing it against the dull reflection of the clouded sun. _"I'm Ellis."_

A weak smile tugged at the left corner of my lips, tiredly, but inevitably grateful. _"You can call me B."_

My gaze dropped to the uzi that now lay on the tiling by my folded thigh, hard and cold. My palm ached so terribly. Once the gun reached my hands, it never left. In actuality, the fact that I gave my hand a break currently was pretty unusual. Before, I had been surviving purely on my ability to run. I was into Track and Field in high school. Others dubbed me as a 'track star', but I only accepted the title once I survived so long during the zombie outbreak without a weapon in my armory, only by the shoes on my feet. _Can't run forever._ I was attending university on the west coast; the only reason why I was in the southern United States at the time of the outbreak was because I was visiting my grandmother. She was sick, only for us to find that it was definitely this plague that caught the old woman in its clutches. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been here. I may have been safe.

Another drag of my cigarette. I watched the smoke rise and crawl out of the safe house door's barred window, timid yet consistent. We had taken temporary refuge in these small rooms; however, it proved faulty for proper smoke ventilation. An overwhelmingly hazy feeling of nicotine comfort blanketed me as I kept watch, my calculating brown gaze alert and active. My lighter sat patiently between my index finger and thumb while they rubbed it absentmindedly. The mechanic beside me slowly recharged from the night's worth of defending. I sighed again. Honestly, I felt guilty that Ellis had saved me that week ago. From the way he described his friends, he kept pretty solid company. Survival actually seemed within his grasp, yet he ditched his chances and saved me nevertheless. The young man turned over again, struggling to stay asleep. Finally, cerulean blue eyes peered open and gazed around- they rested on me. I could feel it. Flicking ash off the cig, I turned to smirk at Ellis. "Have a nice nap, sunshine?" My voice crumbled beneath the usual quiet, and I promptly regretted speaking.

With a towering stretch of his muscular arms and a muffled groan, Ellis sat up, the pants of his blue mechanic uniform bunching at his waist as he hunched over wearily. "I slept purty good, thanks fer askin'." Large grin. Of course. I took another drag. "You didn't wanna get some shut eye, too? While we're here?" He asked, concern written all over his thick eyebrows. It took me a good second or two to respond, my cold countenance defrosting slightly at his inherent compassion.

A smile threatened to spread over my expression. "Don't worry about me," I remarked, foolish in my fatigue's dismissal while I spoke smoke. Slipping the cigarette between my lips and picking up the abandoned uzi in the corner of the safe house, I quipped a "Where to?" from the other side of my mouth. There was a brief, contemplating silence before both of us pushed ourselves standing. The metallic clang of shotgun shell filling barrel responded. Ellis took a hasty, defensive step in front of me as he removed the metal lock from the safe house door. I took a step back. Peeking around his beige shirt, I noticed that we had camped right in front of what appeared to be a entranceway walled by ticket booths.

"Haven't ya heard of Whisperin' Oaks?" Ellis asked me, briefly peering over his shoulder. He kicked open the metal door and we walked into the abandoned, but evidently still operating amusement park. I have heard of it, actually. I went only once before; I was on a date with my only- now late- ex-boyfriend. I thought it was a fun experience at the time: romance blossoming, dim, yellow lights in contrast with the bright, rainbow fluorescents that lit up the rides and signs, the Tunnel of Love. But in retrospect, I realize how awful it really was. The carnival was beautiful, but my boyfriend was a little less extraordinary. Through adolescent whispers all night by passing friends, I learned that he had been seeing another girl behind my back. And the reason it was so imperative I knew at that time? The girl was at the carnival, and where was Danny? No, seriously- we were just holding hands! I turned to the bumper cars with a big smile, eager to kick some butt with the metallic vehicles when the boy was nowhere to be found. Every part of my body stung in humiliation and disappointment; there was always a lingering feeling that he had lost interest. I was never good with boys. And evidently, they were never good with me, either.

As the sun officially disappeared behind Whispering Oak's gates, a breath of autonomous, mechanic life chased out the ghosts that loitered from the past life. Suddenly, lights irradiated, flickering in old age and abandonment. I welcomed the abrupt animation, but once the various carnival tunes began to loop, I definitely began to feel shaken. It reminded me of an arcade game I used to play with friends while waiting at the movie theatre, a horror game set in a carnival. A subzero chill ran up my spine.

"B?" Ellis questioned me, distracting me from my terrifying thoughts. "You okay? I noticed you were, uh," He gestured at my hands- I didn't realize that I had pulled out my lighter and anxiously rolled its oblong shape with my fingertips. I hastily pushed it back into my pocket.

We definitely were making good time for being in one of the largest carnivals in the south. "Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking." I fumbled with my words, and Ellis just laughed in response.

Continuing aimlessly through Whispering Oaks, Ellis found and promptly destroyed a vending machine. I hadn't consumed Cheetos in years- my athletic life didn't permit it- and here I was, sitting at a picnic table with a new friend, isolated from the living, eating one of the unhealthiest snacks in the world. It was nice, in all honesty. Whenever I thought about my life before this, my hands always found their way to the lighter, scratching at the brand sticker and lighting it over and over again.

"Hey, B." Ellis was strangely perceptive for a guy I could hardly give any merit. "Now, uh, is B yer real name? Or is it an initial or somethin'?" He snacked on Funyuns, arguably worse than my Cheetos, smiling to me.

"Oh, it's an initial. I decided to just go by 'B' in college." I remarked conversationally as I placed the lighter onto the splintery, wooden table to keep it out of my grasp. "I kind of wanted to leave behind the past, you know?"

Ellis nodded understandably. He ate with an obnoxious crunch that would have irritated me if I didn't feel so full. Once I brought my hands to my lighter onto the table, however, the country mechanic stifled a laugh. "That's funny you say that," He began with a full mouth, gracing me with a swallow before continuing. "For wantin' to 'leave the past behind' as you say it, you sure keep quite a hold on that thing." With his salt-covered pinky, he gestured at my lighter.

This lighter isn't remotely special. If anything, it's something that definitely reminds me of a darker time in my life- aside from now, at least. My smoking got heavy when I traveled back to Louisiana to help my sick grandma. She was old; it seemed natural that death was oncoming. But my mother? She was an absolute mess. And I probably took care of that woman during my grandmother's sickness more than my actual grandma herself. I just happened to have my lighter in my pocket the night I ran to escape the outbreak. Since then, it's been a part of me. A reminder. It's hard to explain, but Ellis is a much sharper guy than I credit him for.

"We better get going." I remarked pointedly, standing up abruptly and leaving my trash at the table. Ellis looked guilty, like maybe he offended me with his comment- I should've eased him for the sake of our growing friendship, but I decided against it.

He seemed to forget about it, too, once we started walking again. We passed the Tunnel of Love, various familiar carnival games, and finally a familiar sight that made me sigh audibly. I lifted my shoulders in an attempt to shake any crestfallen feelings when resting my sights on the bumper cars.

"What's wrong, girlie?" Ellis questioned curiously, drifting to my side where I halted. "Ah, bumper cars! One o' the best rides at Whisperin' Oaks, I think." He said assertively, nodding his head in an attempt to lighten my mood. I didn't respond. Appearing frustrated, Ellis elbowed my side lightly to get my attention. "Why does one o' the best rides at Whisperin' Oaks got you all sad and stuff?"

I almost choose not to talk about myself anymore, but I figured I owe him this much; with another sigh, I scratch the back of my neck with a shrug. "Uh, just a guy. I was…" I repositioned myself to a few yards to the left before continuing. "…Right here when he left me." Gesturing with both arms out from my body, I dropped them to my sides with a smack to illustrate feigned nonchalance. Ellis let out a laugh. Instead of letting him chuckle like at the picnic table, I hid no hostility. "Are you serious? What are you laughing at?"

"No offense, B, but… You seem the type who likes smart guys, right? Real intellectuals?" Ellis looked to me expectantly; I shrugged and nodded simultaneously in response, unsure what direction he was taking. "Then I'm glad he left." My face twisted in irritation animatedly, and Ellis laughed again. "Must've been a real fool to leave a girl like you. Don't ya think?"

My face reddened quicker than it had ever in my life. I wasn't expecting such a sideways compliment completely out of left field, especially by the happy-go-lucky mechanic who recently grew a critical streak. I didn't know how to respond, so I let out an awkward cough before turning on my heel and getting back on track. What was with this guy?

It was another twenty minutes at least before I stopped walking again. My gaze caught on several large posters lacing the brick walls of the passing bathrooms. The signs advertised _The Midnight Riders_, a popular arena band among these parts. I didn't feel them too much, but my father certainly did. Upon further observation, I saw the group was set to play before the outbreak. I wonder if they were able to get out when things got too serious. "I feel like I would've known that The Midnight Riders were coming to play here." I remarked absentmindedly, thinking of my dad. I continued with Ellis' pace, only to be pushed out of the way by the unexpectedly ecstatic man.

"What? No way, man! This trip keeps gettin' crazier and crazier, ya know that?" Ellis brought his hands to the poster, excitedly reading the large, grunge print. "These guys are my favorite!" I crossed my arms in response. Of course they were. I tried to keep a stoic expression, but seeing Ellis so happy during an apocalypse definitely became contagious. "What if all their shit is still here? Did I tell ya I used to play the guitar with my friend Keith? We could've started a band, but his bass shorted out one time an' he got electrocuted real bad, so he hadta..."

Tilting my head, I tuned out of Ellis' story as an idea came into conception so quickly, hope reignited in my being. "Wait, Ellis-" I interrupted, though the brunette didn't seem to mind. "If we can find the stage, and if their equipment is still here," _Those are a lot of ifs_— I thought to myself in desperation, saddened slightly. "Maybe we can crank up the amps, strum some instruments and get attention." I suggested with a genuine smile- I couldn't help it. Was there a chance we could be saved? It's not like zombies could put on a rock concert.

"Well, usually at the Riders' shows, they've got lots o' fireworks. That can get a military helicopter's attention, right?" Ellis replied optimistically. Hope must be contagious, too.

At our conversation stirred something- a low moan emitted from behind the carousel with cracking paint. Immediately, I drew my gun and aim while Ellis did the same. Soon, the grumbles and groans became louder, implying their numbers. For a split second, I catch the sight of the side of a skull. I shoot. The zombie goes down, but now the horde is coming at us full force.

Ellis and I had been fighting together for at least two weeks. He taught me how to use a gun and shoot like a champ. Hordes didn't frighten me anymore, despite them running at me, eyes sometimes gouged out, skulls bashed in and missing limbs. There were always scars and signs of what happened moments after their turning. I had nightmares the first few nights, but things seemed to ease once I told Ellis about them. I had a dream he deserted me while I was pinned down by zombies, without any possible chance of survival. In response to spilling my guts, Ellis with his concerned cerulean eyes told me not to worry, and _"I'll never leave you." … _I'm not sure when things became so intimate, but after the fourth night where I woke up with a shout causing Ellis to accidentally shoot the ceiling in fright, he suggested I sleep closer to him so he wouldn't feel inclined to shoot me in case I had another bad dream. After that, I haven't had any nightmares. Ellis is pretty childish- and don't get me wrong, he has skill that is unrivaled by myself- but it causes for tension in conversation. Sometimes I catch myself looking down on the guy that saved me. But ever since that night in the safe house with my nightmare, he really matured in my eyes. I feel safe around him. And I still feel safe while we're back to back, each covering 180 degrees of land and completely sweeping all zombies to the amusement park floor. Within minutes, we've cleared out most of the infected in that area. Now, we needed to find a map to locate the concert arena.

[ … ]

It didn't take us long to find the colossal amphitheater. Fortunately for us at the time, it was positioned almost right in the middle of the entire amusement park. Now, however, we may not be so lucky. There are several entrances to the concert venue, which heightened the chance of attack from infected. Upon seeing the large stage before thousands of seats, I realized that Ellis was right- I have never seen so many fireworks. There were mechanized carts sporadically placed that were moving crates, but the scene appeared more as a halted work in progress than a finished set. I wondered if the band even got to perform before the outbreak.

We scouted the area and found there was a tech booth that sets the stage ablaze as well as starts the music. _Wait, starts the music?_ I guess Ellis didn't know of the fraudulent talents of The Midnight Riders, but that wasn't exactly important at the moment. Ellis found an entire crate of smaller fireworks, more reminiscent of the ones I lit back home. I only found a few gas cans- imperative for lighting large masses of zombies on fire- most likely on hand if one of the moving cars broke down. Fortunately whoever was here last left them. Setting them up in strategic places on the stairs and protecting the stage where we planned on positioning ourselves, Ellis and I were finally ready for the masses to come. Well, ready as we'd ever be.

I was hovering over the soundboard, located to the left of the main stage. My right hand wavered over the switch that would initiate the beginning of the show, with all the sounds and sights that would follow. I gulped.

Again, I hadn't noticed myself twirling the lighter in my left hand until I felt a warm hand envelop mine; Ellis was behind me, so insanely close- though it wasn't any closer than we'd been while fighting- but this was different. He was holding my hand. With his other arm, he embraced me, sliding the lighter out of my hands and tucking it gingerly into my front right pocket in my jeans. I thought he would leave then, but he turned me around to face him. We were both dirty, but there wasn't a cloud of anxiety, sorrow, excitement over his cerulean gaze. His chestnut hair shielded the picturesque, oval face below it from any dishevelment. I stared back at him, uncertain with what he was trying to accomplish. In an attempt to pinpoint whatever would happen next, I spoke.

"Since, uh, we're not sure how successful this is going to be," I began, somewhat morbidly. I internally kicked myself for that charming starter. "My real name is Blithe."

A large, unusually white smile cracked over the mechanic's full lips. "Heya Blithe." Ellis' voice was softer, and my chest almost ached when I heard it. "I'm Ellis. I hope we have a mighty swell time together." He reached out his hand. I decided to humor him, taking it gratefully. Either he forgave me, or didn't want me to feel guilty for taking him from his group originally; and at that, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. Just then, Ellis pulled my shaking hand into him, with which I received the most polite, sensitive, and lovely kiss I have ever had the opportunity to feel. My cheeks, fingers, and toes began tingling in the unique, almost foreign sensation of worth.

In order to survive, we had to do this. We'd turn the stage into a terrifying magnet attracting the massive moth of a zombie horde- and, ideally, someone from the Evacuation Team that moved out millions of people earlier in the outbreak. They'd know where to go, and perhaps we'd be saved. _We._ This was no longer about me anymore. This was about Ellis, who gave up survival out of pure kindness to help someone who he couldn't even see. This was about my family who I couldn't save. This was for the future generations that would outlive this unbelievable zombie apocalypse. Finally, I pushed down on the soundboard lever that ignited the fireworks and started the show.

Right on cue, the stage fireworks shot up almost thousands of feet into the air. Earsplitting music shook the arena. And an eruption of infected flooded through the all the doors. _It's showtime._

Ellis and I split up different sides of the stage, lighting up the smaller fireworks with our bullets in order to burn groups of zombies when our shooting wasn't enough. I crouched on one knee when I shot, overly impressed with my insanely improved aim. Things seemed to be going well, albeit completely horrifying, but sustainable nonetheless. The concert must have at least been an hour and a half in when I realized my ammunition was getting low, and there weren't any more of the lower-level fireworks or gas tanks out in the seats on the other side of the arena. Time for a new method of action.

"What's the plan?" I called to him on the other side, attempting to mask the worry that hung on each syllable.

Ellis examined the ghostly absence of crowd, checking for anything we may have missed. There seemed to have been a break in the zombie influx which allowed us to have a break for a moment. "Don't worry," He called over reassuringly, smiling. I could see that grin from miles away if the distance was available. "We've still got those fireworks on the stage which'll burn any infected to dust!" With a thumbs up, Ellis turned back in his designated direction, shooting at more zombies that surfaced. I followed suit. A burning feeling in my gut reminded me that we most likely wouldn't be saved. I wanted to punish myself for getting so positive, but now wasn't the time to have regrets. I was trying to control what little bullets I had left, and spent a lot of occurrences beating incoming zombies to a pulp with one of the guitars on stage. The fireworks fortunately got most of the zombies that we didn't risk our ammunition to shoot.

Suddenly, a mountainous roar shocked the entire stadium, and some zombies even reacting to the ear-splitting bellow. Completely obliterating the thin wall in which it surfaced, this grotesque monster heaved with every breath, seeming to exhale pure anger. Its head was freakishly small, positioned perhaps only slightly higher than head would've been if the body was normal. However, on this infected, its neck, back, and arms seemed to have bloated horrifically. It stood at least twelve feet tall, its huge arms reaching the ground in its severe mutation. When the dust cleared and its presence was finally established, a gasp caught in my throat, frozen much like I had become. Ellis must've noticed my obvious fear as the monster started its way down the stairs opposite of our positions, because he called out to me.

"Blithe!" He called to me, and I turned faster than I ever had when he called me B. I forgot I had told him my name. "Don't worry! If we can get the _tank_ to light on fire through the fireworks, then we'll be all good! Fire's its weakness!" Ellis began shooting at some of the other infected as the tank, as he called it, ran toward us. I hesitated to shoot anything other than it. The ground shook with its feral gallops, running on its hands and legs. My palms became so sweaty that my gun fell from my hands, causing me to cry out in fear. I held my breath, tears threatening to escape my eyes, and hastily recovered my weapon. After holding off the horde, something happened. They stopped. The fireworks stopped; something went wrong.

"Oh my god." I chanted under my breath now. All the nerves I'd been suffocating this entire time chose now to break through of the barrier I had set. I wasn't ready to die, especially at the hands of this thing.

With the towering zombie incoming, we were running out of options. Ellis remarked about lighting the tank on fire- its weakness. But now that something had short-circuited and the fireworks ceased to ignite, it seemed as if any hope I had embraced coming to this final moment completely dissipated. My brown eyes widened as I watched the tank approach, its mutated muscles flexing with its rabid four-limbed run at us. It paused to let out another roar, until something interrupted its victory cheer.

It was a godly hum, a spiritual being summoning us.

The helicopter.

Riddled with disbelief, I immediately fell to my knees. Everything shot in slow motion. The tank didn't seem to mind the serendipitous appearance of the evacuation chopper. Pulling myself back up, I screamed as I shot the mutation, roaring one that could have rivaled its own if not muted by the helicopter. I was suddenly aflame like the infected I lit, but all-powerful. My aching palm felt rejuvenated, and Ellis and I both unloaded our bullets into the monster, hoping for the sight of his collapse. Unfortunately, I was greeted with an unholy clicking, indicating the empty clip. Empty. I was out of ammunition.

As if on cue, Ellis' blue eyes gazed to me from the hundreds of yards away. I noticed him place his gun back into his mechanic uniform, obviously running out of lead as well. An audible cry couldn't help but escape my throat, dark and utterly painful. The tank roared again in response; with his inhuman strength, I watched its fingertips tunnel beneath the stadium's concrete, pulling a huge slab of one of the several staircases out and over its head. I couldn't seem to pull the horrendous sight away from the creature as I observed the chips of concrete circling its hunchbacked body, dislocated, undead limbs pulsating. It hurled the gargantuan hunk of concrete over to its left- directly at Ellis. With a crash, the concrete smashed onto the man, and I didn't even think to do anything else but run towards him. _No. No. _My lungs contracted combatively against my will; I couldn't breathe, though I still reached his body, sprawled against the concrete above and below. Blood- _his_ blood- was everywhere. I was kneeling in it while I checked his pulse- there was one- my hands in it as I attempted to lift the monstrous weight off of him. It budged only slightly. "Ellis, don't worry." I said, reminiscent of how he sounded once to me. "You'll never leave me, right?" I mimicked to him, catching myself tearing up when he smiled weakly in return. His leg was broken, and while everything else seemed remotely workable, he was weak.

As I tried a second time to move the concrete, my eye caught a timid little red plastic casing on Ellis' side of the arena. A gas can? _A gas can! _Adrenaline shot through my veins, despite all of the shock my body went under from the muscles' fatigue. How did Ellis overlook this gas can? Moving completely on instinct, I sprinted at the can as the tank galloped at me, both parties regretting absolutely nothing. Jerking the cap off the top of the can, I hastily drizzled a line of the gas from its original position all the way toward Ellis. I made sure all of it was out, and I threw the can over to where I found it with this newfound strength. But there was one problem: I didn't have any more bullets to light the gas on fire. _My lighter. _I thought quickly, patting my pockets and finding it where Ellis had slipped it- my chest ached- and pulled it out, going to light it with no hesitation. Only, it wasn't lighting. "Of course!" I cried, trying again and again to get the flint to take to the gas. Of course this would happen. In the last seconds of our lives, a gigantic tank going to dismember us into our deaths, and my trusty lighter refuses to go. I stared at the lighter, its aqua color barely clashing with the chipped nail polish that remained on my fingers. The memories of the past flashed by, overwhelming my senses with a heavy necessity to survive. My thumb, completely raw from religiously flicking the flint, tried with one last effort to kindle any sort of flame, and the thumbwheel stuck. At the sudden shock to see the yellow flame that I did not expect, I dropped the aqua lighter that protected me- comforted me- built me and my passage to home- into the gas. The light took.

Everything continued in slow motion, again. The adrenaline was making my movement that much quicker, and I found myself completely indebted to human nature. As the flame licked hungrily at the gas pathway, the fire caught the incoming tank. Incineration. With the most guttural shout I've ever mustered, I shoved the slab off of Ellis. He was awake, though I'm not sure how present he was with current events. I pulled his arm over my shoulder and gripped him tightly, bee-lining it straight to the helicopter that still hovered over the right of the arena. I stepped as quickly as I could, his body irremovable from my side, and finally we were within moments of reaching it. Behind me, I saw the tank rushing toward us in some last moment of rush, like me. I roughly pushed Ellis into the military copter. It began to rise before I was in it. The brunette clasped my wrist, however, and pulled me up despite his sustained injuries.

With a rush of fresh air, the helicopter shot through the sky, taking refuge in the atmosphere. I hadn't noticed I still grasped Ellis, holding his shoulders to my chest while one of the armed men checked his leg. I gazed out the copter to see the beautiful golden lights of Whispering Oaks and the flame in the arena left by my aqua lighter. As a cathartic exhale left my lips, I lost consciousness.


End file.
